Whistling, he walks his bike down the narrow alley, feeling glad he didn’t listen to his mother and drive. There’s no way I can drive my SUV here, he eyes the narrow street.
From his jacket pocket, he fishes out a crumbled piece of paper. “Let’s see, which building are you?”
With his bike on top, he tumbles to the ground. “Ow,” he mutters and rolls onto his back just in time to hear the crunch from inside his backpack. Damn it.
Arms crossed, his assailant, the Chinese woman, begins babbling, “You’re going to see him, aren’t you?”